Blanche's POV
When Zain brought up going home with him, his tone was dead serious—not a trace of playfulness in his eyes—so I didn't read too much into it.
I pushed back with clear reluctance, "Blissfield Villa and Alexander Villa are your places, not mine. I'm not coming back with you."
Seeing my refusal, Zain's expression turned stormy.
His voice dropped low as he said, "Don't forget what I told you before."
I blinked, drawing a blank, and asked him, "What did you tell you?"
Right then, the light turned green.
Traffic clogged the street, and Zain's car inched forward, trapped in the gridlock.
I stared at Zain's profile, bewilderment in my eyes, as he spoke in that bone-chilling calm voice: "We're doing this again."
Honestly, even if Zain hadn't reminded me, I would've remembered that on my own.
But considering how dead serious he'd looked moments ago, I really hadn't expected him to bring that up.
Besides, there wasn't any real reason for us to do it again.
